Free Henrietta by M.C. Beaton

quiver of emotion that he had felt when he had looked into her eyes was gone. He felt old and protective. “Poor child,” he said. “I shall call again tomorrow to find out how she is keeping. I think you and I shall have to keep a good watch on Miss Sandford from now on.”
    “Indeed, yes!” agreed Miss Mattie, looking intently into his eyes. “Friendship, concern, alas!” she exclaimed, much to Lord Reckford’s bewilderment.
    He made his best bow and took his leave. Miss Mattie sighed as she watched the strong athletic figure climbing into the curricle. “Friendship hardly ever leads to passion,” she said, shaking her head and going to take her place beside her sleeping friend.
    Henrietta was amazed and frightened when she eventually awoke to hear the story about the opium in the Turkish Delight. But as the days passed and the event of her first London ball drew near, she almost forgot about it. The sun shone on London Town and the Beau was in constant attendance. But Henrietta sighed disconsolately.
    She had still not received cards to any social event. Lord Reckford escorted her on sedate walks as if she were a schoolgirl and he, the governess, and Miss Scattersworth always came along as well. He was a considerate and friendly companion… and nothing more.
    Mr. Ralston had called several times but had been informed by Hobbard that “Miss Sandford was not at home to Mr. Ralston” so firmly that he had eventually given up.
    At last, the evening of the ball at Almack’s had arrived. It was to be the first event of the London Season. Lady Courtney had been successful in procuring vouchers for both Henrietta and Miss Scattersworth. Lord Reckford had promised to be early for once in order to lead Henrietta into the first dance and establish her social status. All that was left to do was to get dressed… and pray.
    Henrietta had refused to dress in white. She was much older than the other debutantes and had no intention of looking like a quiz. Instead she wore a stately gown of green crépe, tied under the bosom with long green silk ribbons. Her heavy fair hair was dressed
á la Sappho
and a magnificent topaz necklace flashed on her bosom.
    Miss Scattersworth, attired in a gown of heavy burgundy silk, looked all that was proper in a chaperone. She was still pining for the curate and, as Henrietta had hoped, it had had a sobering effect on her mode of dress.
    By the time the ladies were deposited outside the famous assembly rooms in King’s Street, St James’s, Henrietta felt that everything would be all right. They had dressed their best, Lord Reckford would be waiting for them and the evening would be a success.
    The rooms were not nearly so grand as Henrietta had expected and the only refreshments were orgeat and lemonade. But society came here to see and be seen. Henrietta glanced round the glittering throng but could see no sign of the tall figure of Lord Reckford. Lady Belding and Alice were already there, whispering and gossiping and waving their long fans in Henrietta’s direction. Heads began to turn, quizzing glasses were raised.
    Dance followed dance and Henrietta sat as if turned to stone. Glittering and chattering and flashing pitying looks, Alice Belding floated past, the sight of the disconsolate Henrietta lending her feet wings.
    Henrietta began to feel immeasurably tired. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. The painted faces of the Dandy set swirled before her like some exotic dream. The dancers advanced, retreated, curtsyed and bowed. And still he did not come.
    Lord Reckford sat on the edge of his bed, nursing his bruised shoulder. He had just been trying, without success, to break down his bedroom door. He had been on the point of leaving for Almack’s when he had heard the click of the key in his door and stealthy footsteps hurrying down the corridor. Startled, but not very worried, he had pulled vehemently on the bell rope and after several minutes stood staring at the door in surprise.